October 2, 2009

  • Of rights and research, rats and undergrads

    [JD 2455107.25]

    PeTA2 recently gave a presentation on
    the (alleged) horrible abuses of animals in scientific and medical
    research. I wasn’t able to attend—I was leading a mass meeting of
    the Secular Student Alliance at precisely the same time—but from
    the pamphlets and flyers I saw, I have a pretty good idea of what the
    presentation was about: Animals suffer in experiments, therefore
    don’t use animals in experiments.

    There are at least two deep flaws in
    this line of argument: First, it is unequivocal that thousands of
    human lives have been saved and millions improved by the knowledge
    gained in animal research. In some cases there may have been other
    ways of getting the same data, but in many cases this would have been
    prohibitive in cost and time, and in some cases it would have
    required us to cause the same kinds of suffering to
    humans that PeTA2
    objects to in rats and cats—or failing to do the research would
    have allowed even worse suffering. Second, why target research? If
    you’re really concerned about the rights and welfare of animals,
    there is an elephant in the room:
    factory farming. Now,
    it’s true that objecting to factory farming and objecting to animal
    research are not mutually exclusive, but it’s a matter of strategy, a
    matter of priorities: You can focus on animal research, and thereby
    get a lot of scientists very angry and make yourselves look like
    insane radicals; or you can focus on factory farming, and soon find
    that you have allies all over the world—even people who see nothing
    wrong with eating meat cannot help but be appalled by the squalor and
    suffering of a CAFO.


    On the
    other hand, there are legitimate objections to be made against animal
    research, at least certain kinds of animal research. As both a
    scientist and animal rights activist, I feel more qualified than most
    to address these issues.

    First,
    it is said that animal research is founded upon a contradiction: For
    our research to be valid, animals must be similar to us; but for our
    research to be ethical, animals must
    not be
    similar to us. How, then, can we justify animal research?

    I
    think that biological and medical research can escape this
    contradiction, by recognizing that many animals are
    biologically
    similar to us without being
    psychologically similar.
    Anyone who would grant the same rights to an
    Aplysia or
    a
    Drosophila as to a
    Pan or a Homo
    is frankly insane.

    But I
    do not think psychological research can escape quite so easily. To
    justify studying the brains of rats, we must presume that the brains
    of rats are sufficiently similar to those of humans to warrant the
    comparison. Yet to cut rats open and inject them with dangerous drugs
    (cocaine and neurotoxins are not uncommon in rat experiments), we
    must presume that the brains of rats are sufficiently
    different
    that rats do not warrant the
    same level of moral consideration—indeed, that they warrant very
    little moral consideration at all, comparable to what we would give a
    slug or a fly.

    Now,
    there are indeed important differences and important similarities
    between the human and rat brains, and perhaps they are of the sort
    that would justify this kind of research—but I’m not so sure. Rats,
    as mammals, have a well-developed telencephalon with many of the same
    cerebral cortex areas as the human brain; but as far less intelligent
    and far less social mammals, they use their cerebral cortex more than
    anything else as a backup system in case their brain stem fails. A
    cerebral stroke in a rat will cause minor impairment from which the
    rat will eventually recover completely; the same stroke in a human
    will cause severe permanent impairment and possibly even death. Thus,
    rats are indeed both similar and different. But if rats depend so
    little upon thecerebal cortex upon which humans depend so much, how
    can we possibly hope to understand the one through the other?

    Furthermore,
    there is the fact that we use rats for
    everything. If
    we can find the time and funding, we might also use cats or chimps;
    but we will definitely use rats, and in many cases we will use rats,
    rats, rats right up until we start using humans. This is not
    ethically but
    scientifically dubious—what
    kind of data can we expect to get from such a limited sampling? If
    the same results from rats also hold in cats and chimps, it seems
    plausible to say they might hold in humans as well; but if all you’ve
    ever tried are rats, rats, rats, how can you know? This is similar to
    the problem in social psychology in which we use
    undergrads
    for everything—undergrads are
    of course perfectly human, but they are more White, more wealthy, and
    by definition younger and more educated than the majority of people;
    how much can we trust our conclusions about their moral values and
    social behaviors? Rats and undergrads are
    convenient, but
    surely that should be a lesser concern than scientific validity.

    Finally,
    there is the issue of
    alternative methods. In
    a seminal 1982 study, Ungerleider and Mishkin discovered the
    relationship between the two primary pathways of visual data, the
    spatial path in the parietal lobe, and the identity path in the
    temporal lobe. This they did by training monkeys to perform specific
    tasks (involving visual observation of spatial position and object
    identity respectively), after surgically damaging half of the
    monkeys’ parietal lobes and half of the monkeys’ temporal lobes. The
    experiment was conducted flawlessly, the data are clearly
    significant; but when I first learned of this experiment, I couldn’t
    help but wonder: Why did they have to
    injure the
    monkeys? Clearly they used monkeys so they wouldn’t have to injure
    humans—clearly unethical—and also so they wouldn’t have to wait
    for nature to injure humans on their behalf—what neurologists call
    a “lesion study”, basically a case study of individuals who
    happened to have suffered brain injury to specific areas. But why did
    they have to
    injure anyone?
    They could have used ice to
    cool the
    monkeys’ brains in specific areas—or, if they’d waited a few years,
    Barker was about to invent transcranial magnetic stimulation. The
    monkeys would have very easily recovered from such
    experiments—indeed, the experimenters probably could have used
    humans, since the risks of short-term cooling and transcranial
    magnetic stimulation are so minor. Instead, all those chimps suffered
    permanent impairment because Ungerleider and Mishkin were lacking in
    imagination.

    In
    general, it seems to me that many scientists are too eager to perform
    a straightforward but obviously harmful experiment upon animals,
    rather than to wait and try to develop alternative means which will
    be less harmful. If after significant time and effort no alternative
    means can be devised, then perhaps it is necessary to harm some
    animals in order to advance science and medicine; but this should be
    a last resort, not the first and obvious step. The scientific
    community is beginning to agree with me on this—as increasing
    strictness in animal use guidelines attests—but the progress is too
    slow, and too many animals are suffering needlessly in the interim.

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